Loser, a lord of the rings fanfic

DISCLAIMER: I do not own characters, names, the song or anything else that belongs to Tolkien and Three Doors Down.

Loser

A song-fic

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Breathe in right away, nothing seems
to fill this place
I need this every time, take your
lies get off my case
Some day I will find, a love that flows
Through me like this
This will fall away, this will fall away

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He watched the torch cast shadows on the far wall of the dungeons. The chains on his hands and ankles had nearly worked their way through to the bone in his body and he hissed as he moved his arm and heard a drop of blood fall to the floor. The thin rag that the surrounded the lower half of his body was stained with blood from cuts and wounds from where he had been tortured. Even the far off sounds of harps playing at a banquet offered no comfort against the stone slabs beneath him.

//You brought this upon yourself my friend,\\ he though resentfully. //You offered to trade your life for hers.\\ The thought of her fair face, with eyes as deep as the deepest ocean and skin as smooth as silk. The laugh a velvet chain of pearls that sang songs from heaven…no. This offered no comfort either.

He heard a door slam far away and braced himself for another torture session. They weren't even doing it for information, they were doing it out of hate, revenge, anger, fuelled by years of lies and torment on themselves. They were just getting even. //Why me?\\ he thought. The orcs hated the elves; he was not an elf.

The door shuddered as the lock sprang back and the wizard walked in. His heavy boots causing a sharp click on the stone tiled floor. His lips were turned up in a snarl and his eyes, incandescent orbs or black and hate, searched into his soul causing him to gasp in pain. The wizard came to a stop right in front of him.

"Well, for a 'noble' king you don't look very impressive, in fact, I wouldn't want to think of the disappointment your subjects would feel if they could see you like this." There was no point in arguing back or even acknowledging he'd heard. It only caused him pain a grief; things that no man should become so familiar with as to properly despise them.

"I see you are trying to ignore me. It won't do you any good, I can see into your soul, see when it hurts, when it doesn't. I can find out how to cause you sorrow and hate. That's what I want. For you to hate. Hate is not something that should inhabit the heart of a king, a leader of people. Don't you see? I am changing you so that when the time comes, when you do become king, you will not be able to give them peace and justice. The only thought you will have is revenge!" He spat the last word and kicked Aragorn in the stomach.

The future king of men sank deeper into his memories.

~Flashback~

He fought in vain as the orcs tied up his beloved, their clumsy hands and swords scaring her flawless skin. Aragorn had not known why she had gone to Helm's Deep but he dearly regretted her decision.

As he sad the words that had bound him to her fate, as he traded his life for hers, the tears fell and she looked up to him.

"My love, you did not have to do this for me." Arwen brushed her fingers against Aragorn's mud-stained cheek.

"I know, but when I return, we shall not remember this."

As he was dragged away, beaten and sore, the Evenstar pendant hung heavily around his neck.

~End Flashback~

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You're getting closer, to pushing me
Off of life's little edge
Cause I'm a loser and sooner or later
You know I'll be dead
You're getting closer, you're holding the
Rope and I'm taking the fall
Cause I'm a loser, I'm a loser, yeah

*********************************

Aragorn didn't think he could go on much longer. It wasn't even much of a choice. He would have to do what his body needed to and if that meant leaving this world then he would gladly welcome and end to torture. Only two things held him back. Arwen and the hope of rescue that still lived within him. He knew from the anger and unease of the Wizard that the war of the ring was over a couple of months ago. He couldn't understand where his friends were. Did they think him dead? Or did the walls of Isengard prevent them from finding him? These were the only options he could face for the lack of rescue. That he had been forgotten or had been dismissed as another lost soldier were not thoughts his mind wished to contemplate.

His mind clouded with swirls of different colours and the foul, coppery taste of blood stain his lips and tongue. He felt the metal whip strike the back of his head and he fell. A motionless body lay sprawled on the filthy floor and one more pool of blood was added to the countless already there.

Aragorn felt nothing. His head felt heavy with blood and fatigue, his body limp with lack of energy. A faint crash sounded in his ears and raised voices disturbed his involuntary slumber. He was aware of a clash of metal and flinched slightly when warm hands gently lifted him from the ground. Uncertain of whether he was dead or still living, he gave himself up to the unknown person, doubtful that they would harm him anymore than Saruman had.

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This is getting old, I can't break these
Chains that I hold
My body's growing cold, there's nothing
Left of this mind or my soul
Addiction needs a pacifier, the buzz of
This poison is taking me higher
This will fall away, this will fall away

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You're getting closer, to pushing me
Off of life's little edge
Cause I'm a loser and sooner or later
You know I'll be dead
You're getting closer, you're holding
the rope and I'm taking the fall
Cause I'm a loser, I'm a loser!

********************************

As the darkness passed and warmth surged through his body, he smiled as he recognised the smooth skin of his love as she held his hand. He also noticed the fair hair of his best friend and the low, gravely voice of his other friend mumbling about how little sleep he had since last week. Certain that he was dreaming, he opened his eyes and stare at the intricate ceiling. Images of beauty and splendour carved into the most exquisite stone he ever remembered seeing. He became aware that the voices had stopped and he painfully turned his head to the side to gaze upon his friends. The elves' beautiful faces held smiles of kindness and relief and the dwarf beamed happily at him.

"How do you feel my love?" came a soft, female voice that soothed his nerves.

"Aragorn?" This time the voice was deeper and stronger, Legolas looked anxiously at his friend. Aragorn coughed and spoke what he figured must have been the first words in a very long time.

"I am dreaming?" he asked, knowing what he wanted the answer to be. He was greeted with more smiles.

"No, you are not. When we found you at Isengard, you were almost dead my friend." Legolas informed him.

"Yes, very careless if I do say so myself." Gimli teased. There was silence. Then Aragorn laughed, it hurt but he was so relieved to be safe, free from pain and torment. He was home. He had survived and in the end, Saruman had failed in his goal. Saruman had lost.